


Fructomancy

by Kharnesh



Series: Lovelace & Bane [2]
Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Divination, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Le Rapt D'Europe, Loss of Parent(s), Magic Simon Lewis, Parent Death, Realization, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Symbolism, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 04:42:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8130818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kharnesh/pseuds/Kharnesh
Summary: Fructomancy - The art of divination through the use of fruit.
The death of his mother has Simon realizing a devastating truth about both himself and his magic.





	

Rebecca sent him letters as often as she could. Boarding school agreed with her, and she agreed with preparing to be accepted into an Ivy League school. She wrote to him about how her advanced classes were going and all the amazing teachers and students she was meeting. She had a way of painting her life in vivid colors that seemed to pull Simon into her world. No matter what subject she began with though, her letters always ended the same.

 _Don’t blame yourself, Simon,_ she would write, _it was no one’s fault._

No one’s fault, indeed.

Was Simon not the one who saw the way his mother cut their fruit? There was an unending sadness in the stripped peels of the oranges. There was an oncoming apathy in the torn flesh of the apples. 

Was Simon not the one who imagined the orange and violet and silver ocean? Was he not the one who found the gold and pink and green advertisement? Was he not the one who dulled his mother and Magnus’ suspicions by wish and thought alone?

Simon had seen Rebecca at the funeral. She held him close the entire time, and Magnus stood behind them, a comforting presence. The flowers that were placed on the grave were white, the tips and edges bruised. The Star of David that had once belonged to his father dug its corners into Simon’s chest. The Mourner’s Kaddish was soft on his lips, and the moment it passed from thought to vibration in the air, it was seared into his heart.

Rebecca had left for her new school the next day. She would be safe there, Magnus had promised. She would be happy. Simon didn’t have to ask what she would be safe from.

Simon and Magnus sat together on the loveseat that had a new name. They sat side by side on Simon’s Seat and looked at the painting opposite of them. _Le Rapt D’Europe_ by Jean-Baptiste Marie Pierre. _The Rape of Europa_. It was just as beautiful as the first time Simon had seen it. He longed to touch his fingers to the corner of the frame. He wanted to feel the brush and the paint and the cramps in his hand. He wished to be something else.

“She didn’t want to do it, did she?” Simon asked.

“I don’t think so, no.” Magnus’ limbs weren’t splayed over the seat, but he did have a drink in his hand. It bubbled like a witch’s cauldron.

Europa reached out to the shore, but kept one hand wrapped tightly around the bull’s horn. She wanted to go home, but she didn’t want to drown.

“I think I did it.”

Magnus didn’t look away from the painting, but he took Simon’s hand in his.

“Sometimes our magic is a beast of its own.”

Simon brushed his thumb against the soft skin of Magnus’ palm. He could feel icy water lapping at his ankles and the heat of a burning man against his cheek.

The Mourner’s Kaddish was soft on his lips, passing from thought to vibration in the air. His heart beat sorely, still smoking, and his Star of David lay sharp at his breast.

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to my mother for being my beta on this piece.
> 
> This has to have been my second favorite piece to write. I really enjoyed the entire process.


End file.
